Only Skin Deep
by xfphile
Summary: Colour is only skin deep.


Okay. So, this fic came about as the direct result of reading an otherwise awesome story where politics were shoved into the middle of a scene, complete with needless bashing. I don't care what people's politics are, and I have no objection at all to them being voiced, but it did bother me (and a few other people, from the comments) to see them forced into a fic where politics weren't even a minor plot-point, and when a reviewed stated that the bashing bothered them, was basically told to live with it (while the question 'why did you need to bash' was completely ignored, thus proving the 'unnecessary' part of the objection) . . . while people who agreed with the author's views were applauded (so to speak).

That bothers me, because I'm a huge believer in equality. I don't have to like what you say or believe, but I will defend to the death your right to say and think it, and I expect the same courtesy.

Thus, this fic is a writing exercise to see if I can weave politics into a show that, for the most part, either avoids them or is fairly neutral about them ('til the end of Tennant's run, anyway; I haven't watched 11 or 12). If you disagree with my views in this fic, that's fine. Feel free to tell me that. BUT: do **not** tell me I'm a horrible person for thinking this way, or that I must change my entire belief system, or start a political WW III. Difference of opinion and freedom of expression are two of things that make this world go 'round, and you don't have to agree with my view, but I still have the right to express it (and vice versa). Thus, if you review, keep it civil and respectful, please.

* * *

 _ **Only Skin Deep**_

Rose Tyler couldn't remember the last time she'd seen something so beautiful.

Well, apart from the Doctor, but then again, he did defy all convention. Also, he wasn't a necklace.

The vivid afternoon sun on Traskel VII washed everything with an intense violet light, making the white pendant in her hand look almost incandescent and the swirls of pink covering it glow fiercely. The overall effect was one of stunning beauty that would stop any woman (or man, it must be said) who had even the slightest in jewelry in her tracks. It was obviously man-made (Rose, being the connoisseur of pink that she was, knew full well that shade could NOT be found in nature), but that did nothing to dull its attractiveness, which she had seen even though it had been half-hidden by a wallet.

Mesmerized, she held it up to eye-level and watched in fascination as the pink and white masterpiece spun and twirled on a platinum chain, each swirl showing her a new pattern or shade of pink and making her fall in love with it just a little bit more.

"Oh, now that is striking," a rich, warm tenor suddenly murmured in her ear. Rose, who had known it was the Doctor because she had become that attuned to his presence, closed her eyes for a second and fought back a shiver. Even though the Doctor was fit beyond compare and had a voice that would sound sexy reading a phone book, he stubbornly kept them at the 'friends who flirt' stage. Rose understood why and even enjoyed the thrill of the chase, but it _was_ getting harder to chase instead of pounce. To distract herself from that line of thinking, she forced herself to go back to what he'd just said, and her brow crinkled as she frowned in confusion.

"Striking?" she repeated, turning to face him and gesturing emphatically at the pendant. "This – 's stunning!"

The Doctor gave her one of those probing looks that always made her just a little uncomfortable. It felt like he was reading her deepest, darkest thoughts, and yet also like he wasn't really considering her at all – like she was a convenient stand-in for whatever planetary or universal issue needed to be contemplated. It was a little unnerving, and after a minute or so, she had to force herself not to squirm, even as he blinked and broke the connection, a soft smile coming to his lips.

"I stand corrected," he said, giving her a slight bow. "But let me ask you, Rose Tyler . . . why did this piece in particular catch your eye?"

Nonplussed, she stared at him for a minute before looking back at the pendant and its vivid pink markings, which helped her word her answer.

"The colours, for one," she said slowly, for the air had taken on that aura of 'lesson' that happened sometimes; the Doctor loved to impart knowledge and Rose generally enjoyed soaking it in. "And the fact that it's different, unique."

"Is it?" he asked in a tone of genuine curiosity, which earned him a narrow look before Rose turned back to the table, her eyes searching for necklaces and almost immediately landing on a spinner that held several of the pendant cradled in her hand . . . and from what she could see from that angle, they differed only in colour (none of which were natural, she suspected). The patterns were identical.

Her enthusiasm for the necklace faded a bit at that realization, and she sighed softly before putting it back on the table and looking at the Doctor. His smile had vanished and he was watching her with a slightly remorseful expression. Rose gave him a soft smile and gently bumped his shoulder.

"Well, go on then," she said, gesturing to the air between them. He stayed silent for several seconds, his gaze never leaving hers, before he suddenly broke the silence.

"Did you know that 3 years after you met me – well, in linear time, of course, time is irrelevant on the TARDIS and three linear years could just as easily be 2 million years or –"

Rose caught his hand and squeezed it, cutting him off before he get up to speed and completely lose both of them in that spiraling train of thought. He gave her a bright grin, not abashed in the least, and squeezed back.

"Anyway, in 2008, America elected its first black president."

Rose would be the first to admit that her interest in non-British politics was virtually non-existent, but this tidbit caught her attention.

"What, really?" she asked in genuine surprise. "I thought they were past that kind of – oh, what's the word? Stigma? (he nodded and she smiled, pleased that she'd gotten it right the first time) – a long time ago."

He nodded again, in agreement with her assumption this time, before continuing.

"Yes, you'd think so, wouldn't you? After all, slavery in America was abolished in the 1860s and the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s supposedly made all of that prejudice go away."

"But it didn't," Rose finished his thought, easily seeing where he was going.

"Weeeeell, yes and no," he said, brushing back a lock of hair that the breeze had blown in her face and again making her hold back her reaction to his touch and closeness (had she mentioned that it wasn't fair, his effect on her?).

To distract herself – and because she was genuinely curious by now – she parroted his words. "Yes and no? Oh, this ought to be good."

"Rose!" he exclaimed, looking like nothing so much as a boy forbidden to jump into mud puddles. "Everything I tell you is good!"

She did not dignify this with a response and he pouted, but kept talking.

"Yes, in that the laws were changed to forbid open segregation due to skin colour, rules were altered to allow everyone an equal chance, all of that jazz," he said, gently tugging her hand and leading her back into the market. "But once the genie has been let out of the bottle – in this case, differentiation due to skin colour – you can't put it back. So while it wasn't technically _legal_ to discriminate against black people, it was very easy to do, and humans are champions of inventing excuses."

This was a true statement, and Rose nodded her understanding, absently swinging their joined hands as they walked.

"So, a thing called affirmative action was put in place, which forced businesses to hire at least some black people – and eventually other races, women, and even military veterans – because it was the only way the national government could see would work to start forcing acceptance of their equality."

This was a mindset Rose simply could not comprehend, because it was a struggle her country had long-since gotten past, and she shook her head in disbelief: as fantastic as her people were, they could still be astonishingly stupid and narrow-minded. But –

"So this president's election is a good thing," she said, suddenly remembering what had sparked this discussion to begin with.

"It should have been," the Doctor replied, catching her off-guard verbally before suddenly pulling her firmly against him and stepping off the path to avoid being run over by a boy taking his pet for a walk (well, actually, the pet was walking the boy). Rose couldn't help a shiver at the unexpected contact and the urge to pounce got a little stronger.

"How do you mean?" she asked to distract herself. He gave her one of those knowing looks that drove her absolutely _crazy_ before obliging her.

"Well, affirmative action," he picked up his interrupted train of thought easily, pulling her back on the walkway as he spoke. "It was a good idea at the time, and served a very useful purpose. However, like so many things, it wasn't abolished after it ran its course, and what started as a way to help black people truly gain the equality and acceptance they deserved turned into a political platform that did more harm than good."

"How?" Rose asked, enthralled with a history she hadn't lived yet.

"Think about it," he replied, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "By forcing companies to hire every different type of person, it was inevitable that a less-qualified worker would be chosen over one better suited to the position because a quota was required and if the company didn't meet their required number of 'diverse employees,' they could be in serious trouble."

Rose blinked. "That doesn't make sense," she protested, looking up at him with a frown and wanting to go to America right then to fix the problem – but even as the thought occurred, she remembered a woman Henrik's had hired that every single person who worked there had been sure was chosen because she was _that_ good in bed, or related to someone who was extremely high up on the food chain (gossip being what it was, tales of the woman's astonishing stupidity had spread like wildfire).

"No," he agreed. "But you've seen how difficult it is to change a law once it's in place. And, quite frankly, a lot of blacks – well, in America, a lot of non-white people – objected when people tried to get affirmative action repealed, or at least restructured."

"But . . . why?" she asked in genuine confusion. That _really_ didn't make any sense.

"Well . . . truthfully, it was in large part because the minorities – during that time, mind – had gotten used to that sort of 'special' treatment, and a lot of them didn't want to give it up. Maybe they were afraid things would slip back into old patterns, maybe they thought they were owed the courtesy, or they could have just been afraid of change. Whatever the reason, throughout the 20th century, black people in America frequently felt unequal and less appreciated than white people . . . and to an extent, that was true."

"But?" Rose prompted, pulling her fingers free of his and earning an instant frown that turned into a smug smile when she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"But a lot of that attitude was cultivated, because racial tension is always a crowd-pleaser and it also served as an excellent distraction from some of the darker political issues of the time," he told her, his voice dark with distaste. "And when you treat one group differently from another, regardless of the reason, superiority and entitlement issues invariably come up. By the turn of the century, a lot of blacks – well, the ones who were vocal about it, anyway – took every attempt to help them become responsible for their fate, both as individuals and as a race, as racism. It got so bad that at one point, there was an effort made to demand monetary reparation for slavery 150 years after the fact."

"Seriously?" Rose asked, unable to hide her shock. Surely there was more to it than that.

The Doctor nodded soberly. "Seriously," he confirmed. "It caused a huge amount of unrest, because people who supported it felt that if it weren't for slavery, they'd be better off in life and people who opposed it thought that since they'd never owned a slave and the others had never been a slave, how could they possibly owe money for something they – or their 3rd and 4th generation ancestors, in a lot of cases (or so they said) – had never done?

"Needless to say, it was obviously a very sensitive, deeply felt issue, and the divide between white and black people worsened every day. So, in 2008, a new presidential election happened, and a black man decided to run for president."

"And got elected by a landslide," Rose deduced, her voice lacking the enthusiasm it had earlier. Sometimes, these history lessons really sucked.

"He did," the Doctor verified. "And it was a brilliant thing, the United States was finally progressing beyond skin prejudice, a golden era was about to begin! Except it didn't."

"Why?"

The Doctor gave a very slight smile at Rose"s simple question and gently guided her around a stall full of scarves and handkerchiefs.

"Well, because a lot of people voted for him _because_ of his skin colour, and gave no thought to his politics, or even his experience, which set a dangerous precedent. And of course, you had people who voted for one simply to keep from voting for their opponent, and all the other reasons people pick one candidate over another. And he wasn't necessarily a bad president, but he did make some spectacular errors – like every president since Washington took office. Nice guy, old George, though the false teeth were a little disconcerting, and the rumours about the cherry tree were _completely_ blown out of proportion –"

"Doctor," Rose said firmly, cutting him off mid-stream. She generally loved his rambles, but now she was curious about how this bit of history ended, and she was also dying to know how that necklace had sparked this conversation.

He sniffed. "Right. So, America's first black president was elected and it was a huge victory for black Americans everywhere, and everything was peachy-keen! Except it wasn't, because he made decisions that not everyone agreed with – again, like every leader since time began – and some people objected to those decisions. Only, they found out quickly that with this president, objections weren't allowed because if you didn't agree with him, you were racist."

"What?!" Rose breathed in shock, her voice coming out as barely a whisper, despite the intensity of her reaction.

"Oh, yes. At least, that was the prevailing vocal majority's opinion. I have no doubt that a lot of people who kept quiet and just lived their lives felt otherwise. The problem was that there was no middle ground, apparently, because that attitude prevailed for the next 8 years, even though he was reelected. And when you comb through history and the literature and media of the time, you'll see that the racial divide that was supposedly healed when B.H. Obama took office . . . well, it wasn't. In fact, by the time Trump was elected –"

"Donald Trump?!"

"The very same. Anyway, by the time he was elected, racial tension had reached what some consider to be an all-time high. And it's ironic, because the people who were talking about race and what it meant for America kept insisting that what they really wanted was a colourblind country. Buuuuut, so many of them turned it back against the people who said colour had nothing to do with it when they disagreed with Obama or any other black leader that eventually a lot of them just gave up. They got tired of being told that what they thought and felt wasn't really what they thought and felt, and that they were actually being racist, and as such were horrible people. And, unfortunately, that attitude was on ALL sides, with just as much vitriol against non-whites by – again – what was likely a minority of that part of the population. The end result was a political divide based not on what was best for the country, but rather individual groups. And if you opposed one thing for one group, you were completely against them. 'Bigotry' and 'intolerance' became very popular words in the early 2000s, and it only got worse when Donald 'The Trump' Trump and Hillary Clinton ran in 2016.

"Poor America," he finished with a sigh. "They never had a chance with that election; their choices were a rock or a hard place. But the worst thing about that period was that the emphasis – and even more, I think – the defensiveness about race, ultimately destroyed any chance they had of making America colourblind, because no one was allowed to treat race as being skin-deep, with character as the deciding factor. And it shows most with Obama, because he was the first black man to not only become his party's candidate but actually make it all the way to the top. It was a glorious moment for a lot of black Americans, but looking back, in a lot of ways, it was also a huge disservice to them, because too many of them cared more about colour than what was best for them and their country.

"By the time he left office, a lot of blacks were in a worse position then were when he was elected – or at best the same – and while there were obviously a lot of factors in that, much of it can be traced back to his policies and decisions, where someone more experienced would likely have done better. But he was the first serious black candidate, and so he was who they pinned their hopes on . . . and too many of them stopped at 'first black candidate. You've seen that before, but Melox II is a bit different, politically, from Earth."

Rose nodded absently in agreement with this, because she was in the middle of trying to process information that her world history class had never so much as mentioned. It was mindboggling, yes, but she found it even more sad that such issues could still exist today, even after all the advancements and achievements and progress Earth had made in her time.

"So what's the moral of this, then?" she asked, knowing full well he was waiting impatiently for the question and in a mood to indulge him.

He had stopped next to one of the last stalls in the market, effectively blocking her view of its contents. Now, he gently removed her hand from his arm and smiled as he straightened, feet spread, back straight, and hands clasped behind him.

"Nothing special," he replied, his eyes starting to twinkle. "Just that if colour is what gets your attention, remember that it's only skin-deep. Quality should always be the deciding factor."

And with that, he brought his hands around, and Rose gasped. His long, elegant fingers were cradling a pendent very similar to the one she'd originally seen, only . . . _more_. It was white as well, but something about the shade just screamed "natural."

And the colours . . .

Rich shades of red swirled around and _through_ the stone, making it almost burn with an inner fire that she could already feel throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

She would still have given the pink necklace her attention first, because it was prettier on the surface and would have gone with a lot of her clothes. But _this_ . . . oh, this was pure magic. It was fierce and magnificent and breathtaking and it was coming home with her, because it wouldn't match as many outfits, but the sheer effect it would have was more than worth the difference.

And she never would have seen it, because looking further would never have occurred to her. His rather long history lesson made even more sense.

She reached for it with steady hands and the Doctor smiled, pushing her arms down and gently clasping the chain around her neck. His slightly cool breath wafted across her ear and Rose took a sharp breath, catching that unique scent of rain, old books, and Time that this man always exuded. He hummed in satisfaction as he finished clasping the chain and the combination was just too much.

She was tired of chasing him and, having long ago accepted that brown and pinstripes was the same man as blue and leather, finally gave in to the urge to pounce. After all, the Doctor was the best man she'd ever known, and seen time and time again ('Everybody lives, Rose! 'I'm the Doctor and I cured them!') and if quality was the deciding factor, well . . .

Why try to find a cheap imitation?

 _finis_


End file.
